"I won't take nothing from him."
"No. From me. Out of my wages."
"You ain't going to have.... Don't be silly. I'm well off where I am."
"I'm going to keep on at Madam's. I'm going to have plenty money. And you're going to move. Got it? I'll see about it to-morrow night, get you in Thursday or Friday. Won't take an hour to settle you in. Then you'll be comfortable."
"I'm very well as I am," said Mrs. Minto, obstinately. "I can keep myself. I'm not going to sponge on you. Not likely."
"You'll move Thursday or Friday, I tell you."
It was final. The poor thin little old woman had no fight in her. She looked up at Sally, and her face was the anxious face of a monkey, or of a sick beast that is being tended. Now that she had been comforted about Sally she had nothing left to say. She made a last feeble effort.
"I don't want to move. Mrs. Roberson...."
"Fiddlesticks!"
"My 'ead!"